


Dreaming of a Dad Christmas

by junko



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Christmas Fluff, M/M, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 08:32:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17019300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: Christmas is _the_ most Victorian time of year. Damien and Hugo plan to go caroling, but will they be able to get it together enough to enjoy themselves?





	Dreaming of a Dad Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [halfeatenmoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfeatenmoon/gifts).



Of course Damien loved Christmas. It was 100% Victorian, after all. Without Prince Albert, what would Christmas even be? There’d be no decorated trees, holiday cards, or Christmas carols.

It was that last one that Hugo dreaded the most.

But Damien had agreed to the local fringe production of “A Klingon Christmas Carol,” which _technically_ was a scary story, what with the ghosts and such, but, face it, given that the whole theater show was performed entirely in Klingon, it was, as the kids might say, “a big ask.” 

Okay, maybe they didn’t say that anymore, but, whatever the case, Hugo definitely owed Damien big time for that one. 

Even if it did give Damien an opportunity to wear his opera coat.

Which he looked super fine in.

SUPER fine.

In exchange, here Hugo was--taking a huge leap to trust Ernest at home alone, basically unsupervised, for several hours, while he and Damien went door to door in their little cul-de-sac... singing.

Hugo shuddered.

It wasn’t that Hugo didn’t like singing as a general activity. He was pretty good at it in the shower, but, well, he was never the first person to sign up for karaoke night at the teacher’s union fundraisers. In fact, he never even went to those events, ever, if he could help it.

But Damien would wear his opera coat and watch Dickens being massacred in Klingon for Hugo, so Hugo would do this door-to-door singing for Damien.

Besides, they hardly ever managed to find time for date type things and this was definitely a date type thing. 

Hugo rang the doorbell on the huge ‘Bloodmarch’ mansion. The door flung open almost immediately and a very disheveled Damien waved him in. Damien’s hair was pulled back, like he wore it when he worked at the animal shelter, but several strands had escaped. He seemed to be in the middle of changing, as his work shirt was half unbuttoned and he seemed to only be wearing… boxers. Boxers featuring… reindeer?

Oh my. So cute!

“Emergency!” Damien declared without preamble. “Lucien has barricaded himself in his room and I’m pretty sure I can smell pot.”

Hugo raised an eyebrow at that last part. The smell was pretty distinctive, and, moreover, he’d heard from Mat that any ‘weed’ that Lucian might claim to have was probably oregano. “Um, well, I mean, maybe he just wants some ‘me’ time?”

Damien shot Hugo a withering look. Right, so that was the wrong thing to say. They’d been dating for several months now, but Hugo was still feeling out the edges of this complex and very new territory. He hadn’t much tried to date anyone since he and Ernest’s dad divorced, and, well, peopling. Despite years of teaching, he was so much better with a prepared lecture. He knew how to be a teacher, he was figuring out this single-dad gig, but supportive lover? That was scary new territory.

Stepping over the threshold, Hugo knocked the snow off his shoes before crouching down to remove them. Trying again, he wryly suggested, “As long as he hasn’t gotten ahold of another set of bricks and mortar, I’m pretty sure he’ll emerge eventually.”

That made Damien chuckle softly. “Indeed. You might as well make yourself comfortable, I may be a while.”

Looking at the fire crackling comfortably in the fireplace and the huge array of books on the shelves, Hugo let out a happy sort of sigh. “No worries. I’m in no hurry.”

Damien’s Christmas decorations were exceedingly tasteful, perhaps unsurprisingly. Of course there was a large, fresh cut tree that filled the parlor with the seasonal scent of pine. Only white lights--perhaps to symbolize the candles that would have been on a Victorian tree--wove in and out of the boughs. Glass ornaments of all kinds hung from the branches, as well as intriguing-looking… cakes? Hugo would have to ask about those. Did a person eat them on Christmas or were they just for decoration?

No stockings hung over the fireplace, but Damien did seem to have a number of Christmas and holiday cards lining the mantel…. Including one featuring a menorah. Lucian’s other parent, perhaps? Hugo’s fingers itched to pluck it from the mantle and see what information could be gleaned, but that seemed… wrong. Besides, the cards were so carefully arranged among the garlands, he was pretty sure he’d knock everything over and Damien would know he’d been snooping.

Best to help himself to one of the many books. 

#

Hugo was cross-legged on the rug by the fire, deep into a fascinating book about the language of flowers, when Damien emerged, looking more like his usual Goth self. He sat down beside Hugo with a deep, long-suffering sigh.

“I think you’re right. He’s just in one of his moods,” Damien said. “It’s probably best not to push. I have to admit, I worry overmuch and yet… need to tread carefully.”

Damien let that hang there with no further explanation, but Hugo could sense the weight of what was unsaid. He wanted to ask if it was just because Lucien was touchy or if there were special custody issues Damien faced as a trans man. That last bit seemed just beyond the threshold of the things they'd discussed at this point in the relationship.

So, instead of trying to say anything, Hugo leaned in and gave Damien a kiss on the cheek. He reveled in the prickly feeling of a freshly shaved face and the scent of Damien’s aftershave. 

Setting the book aside, he asked, “Are you ready to do some caroling? Because I’m very ready. Super ready.”

Damien smiled like he could see right through Hugo. He laid a hand gently on Hugo’s knee. “It’s awfully cozy by the fire.”

It was, but caroling was a big deal, wasn’t it? “It’ll be extra cozy when we come back.”

That seemed to be the right thing to say, at last. Damien’s eyes brightened. “I’ll get the candles and the music books I printed up.”

#

Somehow, at Brian’s house it became a competition over who could remember the most obscure songs. Hugo was out pretty early --as a rule, as a Unitarian, he didn't do obscure carols, much less this whole holiday, really, being mostly of the secular humanist branch-- but things got very fierce between Damien and Brian, until Hugo wondered if he was going to have break up a fight over whether or not the theme music to “Die Hard” counted.

Luckily, the corgi’s attempted escape gave them an excuse to shut the door and move on to the next house.

#

As they approached Joseph’s house, Damien handed Hugo a different carol book. “More Christian, less pagan,” he explained.

Of course, the entire time they sang, Joseph’s twins stared blank-eyed at them. 

Hugo shivered from more than the cold as they moved onward.

#

Craig didn’t seem to be home. They figured he was probably out doing some unfathomably outdoorsy winter sport or something with that new dad who’d just moved in not long ago. Winter camping? Did people camp in the winter?

Craig probably did.

#

It looked like they might miss Robert, too, since his lights were off, but when they finished up at Mat’s coffee shop, he was there drinking something very dark and looking like he was nursing a hangover. But, then Robert always sort of looked like he was nursing a hangover, and he seemed game enough to join in the singing.

Robert had a nice voice. Surprisingly good at harmonizing, too.

Mat, as they both had hoped, offered up a taste of some new bakery item with a terrible music pun for a name, and they bought hot chocolates to drink in front of the fire back at Damien’s.

#

Hugo glanced at his house on the walk back, just, you know, to make sure it wasn’t actively on fire or anything. He was relieved to see that it still seemed to be intact. At least whatever Ernest was up to, it didn’t involve fire trucks or the S.W.A.T team.

The sky was startlingly clear, as it often is in the deep, dark of winter. Despite the street lamps in the cul-de-sac, the stars were bright, the constellations easily visible. Hugo took Damien’s gloved hand in his. It was a lovely night.

“I’m glad you talked me into this.”

“Hmm,” Damien said, though he was smiling. “I hope that Klingon thing will be this nice.”

It probably wouldn’t be, but he had to point out, “A Christmas Carol was first published in 1843, which makes it very much a Victorian classic. I mean, okay, the Klingon thing is… different, but I’m not asking you to go to a wrestling match.”

“Why haven’t you asked?” Damien wondered as he fished his key out of his pocket to open up the door. Hugo let go of his hand to let him push the door open. A hot blast of warm air instantly fogged up Hugo’s glasses, which is why he couldn’t tell what Damien’s expression was when he asked, “Are you embarrassed…?”

“A little,” Hugo admitted, stepping inside, he wiped the lenses on the collar of his shirt. “I mean, last time I went to a match one of the kids from school was there and it’s not very… intellectual is it?”

Damien let out a breath. “Oh. I thought maybe, you were embarrassed to bring me.”

Hugo startled. Adjusting his glasses on his face again, he now could clearly see how stricken and worried Damien looked. “No! Why would I be embarrassed by you?”

Damien blushed. It was super cute, but Hugo could tell something about this still bothered him. Hugo wasn’t always great on reading a situation, but this one clearly demanded action. So, he pulled out his secret weapon. One he’d hidden in his pocket, just in case. He dug it out now and held it up over Damien’s head. “Wait, what’s this? Mistletoe??”

Hugo went in for it. Their lips met. Damien tasted of hot chocolate. His arms slipped around Hugo’s waist and pulled him closer.

The mistletoe was a damn fine idea. He'd have to thank Lucien for suggesting it later.

It was the perfect end to a perfect evening.

**Author's Note:**

> Just as a note of interest "A Klingon Christmas Carol" is a [real thing](http://moundstheatre.org/event/a-klingon-christmas-carol/). I'm sure there's some Christmas related wrestling event, but I figured Hugo's literary interests would intersect nicely with his nerdiness with the play, as well.
> 
> Thanks for giving me an excuse to write some fluff in this universe. I hope it satisfied some of your wants.


End file.
